


With Some Help From a Friend (Or Two)

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Dating Advice, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Mishaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 08:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: The war is over; Leia Organa has got her man. And now, she's going to dish out some friendly advice and ensure that her brother and her fourth-favourite pilot (after Han, Luke, and Chewbacca) get their act together.Han helps.





	With Some Help From a Friend (Or Two)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lajulie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lajulie/gifts).



> Lajulie asked for: Luke/Wedge, Leia or Han gives Wedge some romantic advice.
> 
> This is what came sprawling out.

“Hobbie’s down on injury,” Wedge tells Leia, barely able to keep a groan of _again_ out of his statement, “so we’ll be here for a couple of days before medical clears him. It’ll give High Command a chance to work out where they send us next.”

Leia refrains from pointing out that High Command have a list of destinations for the Rogues a mile long, planets in which their particular skills would be highly valued. That, and the fact that since yesterday’s meeting of High Command, Leia herself no longer has a say in military decisions – Mon is attempting to untangle the confused web of the Alliance’s upper echelons, separating out the soldiers from the politicians, as she moves it to a democratic republic.

“A couple of days rest time will do you good,” is what Leia does say. It would do them all good, frankly, but Leia at least has managed to claw a little time away with Han, a honeymoon of sorts, since Endor, and she’s almost certain Wedge hasn’t. They’d managed to get him to stop for a few hours on Endor, to join the celebrations, but even the next morning he’d been up working, sorting through duty rosters and taking on the duties of the squadron leaders who had died in the attack.

“It’ll do me _bored_ ,” Wedge replies. “Especially if you get your way and lock me out my office.”

“Now Wedge, why ever would you think I’d do that!” Leia bats her eyelashes at him, the picture of innocence, as if she has not, in fact, done exactly that in the past. “I’d lock you out the hangar too, if I had my way, but you and your pilots will be needed for patrol.”

“You’re no fun.”

“And you work too hard.” Leia stabs him in the chest with her finger before he can retort back that she does too. “I have Han – at least, when he isn’t off flying missions – and I’ve actually used some of the leave that we’re all due. Which is more than I can say for you.”

Wedge murmurs something Leia doesn't quite catch, and runs a hand through the back of his hair, almost abashed.

“The war’s over, Wedge. We can all finally move on with our lives. Have things we couldn’t have before.”

It’s not like Leia doesn't _know_ that Wedge does want things. She saw the way his eyes tracked Luke at the celebration on Endor, gaze steady with desire. And she’s overheard a few of the Rogue’s drunken odes to Commander Skywalker, and well… Wedge isn’t being nearly as subtle as he thinks he is.

“War ain’t over yet.” Wedge, always the pragmatist, might be technically right, but he’s missing the point.

“The war is _ending_ , which amounts to the same thing. We’ve won. Which means you ought to start thinking about what you want that _isn_ _’t_ Starfighter drills, squadron command, or endless datawork.”

Leia and Han had both hoped, when they’d seen Luke tug Wedge aside on Home One in the week after Endor, that maybe they’d sort this damn thing out between them. But whatever they’d talked about, it hadn’t changed their relationship one iota.

“Just because you got your happy ever after with Han, doesn’t mean that there’s one of those waiting for the rest of us.” Wedge says this without any malice – Leia knows that he’s happy for them – but it is said with the slightest hint of despair.

“You know, you could just ask my brother out. I’m sure he’d be receptive.”

It’s worth it to see Wedge choke, sputter, and almost trip over his own feet. Leia sighs. _Men._ Useless, the lot of them. Well, apart from Han, but he’d taken his sweet time to get his act together – though so had she, so she guesses she can’t blame him too much.

“I don’t—” Wedge stops short of a denial when he sees Leia’s arch glare directed straight at him. “I don’t have time. He doesn’t have time. He’s half a galaxy away and he’s going to stay half a galaxy away for a bloody long time while he tries to sort this Jedi business out and I’m not going to get in the way of that, Lei, I’ve got a job here and besides—” Wedge takes a deep breath, trying to dam the flood of emotion that’s breaking forth. “He doesn’t even like me that way.”

“You know, I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.” Leia isn’t the only one who’s noticed that Luke treats Wedge _differently_ to everyone else. She would bet good money on Luke’s interest being romantic, even if he too, is being wilfully ignorant of the whole thing.

“Don’t tease Leia.”

A quick-fire response dies on Leia’s tongue as she regards Wedge’s despondent face. “I’m not,” she says, openly and honestly, leaning across her desk to put her hand on his arm. “You really do like him, don’t you?”

Wedge nods mutely, too afraid to open his mouth for fear of the flood of emotions that would come rushing out.

“Then let’s get started on a plan.”

.

“Kid, you look like you’ve taken a dive into the oceans of Krellin Six, what in blasted hells happened to you?”

Go pick Luke up, Leia had said. Escort him back to the fleet. Well, she hadn’t said anything about him turning up on the Falcon dripping wet, covered in goodness only knows what filth. Chewie roared a loud disapproval at the smell emanating off the boy.

“A local lady didn’t take particularly kindly when I didn’t respond to her advances,” Luke explains, pushing his dripping fringe away from his eyes.

“And you couldn’t think of a polite way to reject them that didn’t involve—” Han waves at Luke to get his point across. “Force, I thought the Jedi were supposed to be _diplomatic_.”

“We are.” Luke gives a cheeky little grin, quick but bright enough for Han to catch.

Chewie roars again, and Han says: “He’s right, y’know. Go get in the refresher before you stink up the entire ship. We tossed a bag of your stuff in before we left – you’ve got fresh clothes under your bunk and don’t you dare come back until you’ve changed into them.”

“Yes sir.”

Han sighs – he should have known from the very first moment in Mos Eisley cantina that the kid would be the death of him someday – and turns back to getting the Falcon away from this planet and the sort of woman who would attempt to drown a Jedi Knight for not dating her. By the time they’ve shot away into Hyperspace, on course to rendezvous with the Fleet, Luke has managed to get himself out the refresher, into some clean clothes, and is towling his hair dry in the middle of the Falcon’s communal area.

“Bleugh.” Luke makes several sounds of discontent as he surveys the state of his hair. “This is going to take days to come properly clean.”

Han pulls a chair out and sets it down backwards, sitting on it so he can rest his arms against the back of it. “Well you know the solution to that. Don’t do anything that would get yourself dunked in whatever the hell it was.” Honestly, Han doesn’t want to know.

Luke drops the towel back around his shoulders. “What was I supposed to do? Lead her on?”

“Sometimes isn’t the worst thing in the world, if it’ll get you out of a scrape or two.” Luke isn’t exactly one for deception, not when it comes to the personal at least, but it’s worth a shot. “Not like you got your eye on anyone, is it?”

Luke blushes.

That’s not a surprise. Han knows full well who it might be. He and Leia have long harboured suspicions about the true nature of Luke’s feelings towards Wedge Antilles. Han had a comm message from Leia the other day, confirming that their suspicions were true – at least as far as Wedge was concerned.

“Spill, kid.”

“It’s nothing.” Luke dismisses Han’s concerns in a flat voice, but Han hasn’t been friends with the kid for all these years without knowing when Luke’s lying.

“It’s something.” The fair dusting of pink on Luke’s cheeks is turning into a fierce bright red. Han’s only seen him this embarrassed once, when a Rogue prank war got out of hand and Luke got caught starkers in one of the corridors by Mon Mothma herself. “Hmmm, who could it be?” Han pretends to muse on the identity of Luke’s crush. “You haven’t fallen for Lando’s charms, have you? Can’t say I blame you there. Or that Gold Squadron pilot, Wexley – though hasn’t she resigned her commission? Can’t see that going anywhere fast. Or who’s that new recruit of Wedge’s, the girl with the shaved head—”

Luke can’t control his reaction to Wedge’s name, the bashful downwards glance, the darkening of his cheeks.

“Come off it Luke, I know it’s Antilles.” Han skips the teasing. “You aren’t his commanding officer anymore, there’s nothing stopping you from making a move.”

Luke flops against one of the Falcon’s benches. “He’s not interested – and before you say anything, I’m not imagining things, I tried.”

Whatever Luke _thinks_ he did, it clearly did not get the intended effect across, because from the sounds of Leia’s message, Wedge has been pining away for quite a while now. Han has witnessed a few of Luke’s attempts at romantic escapades. Smooth, the kid is not. Luckily, he’s cute and with enough natural charm that that’s never usually mattered.

“Tell me what happened, because I’ve got good evidence to the contrary, and quite frankly kid—” Han eyes Luke up, bashful and withdrawn. “You don’t exactly have a good track record on this sort of thing.”

.

There is a window of approximately eight hours after Han arrives with Luke back on Home One before Wedge departs with the Rogues on a mission that Leia, much as she has _tried_ to beg Admiral Ackbar in the name of love, cannot get him out of.

Still, it’s enough time to trap them in a room together, force a confession, and, if they’re lucky, resolve some of the blasted tension that’s been between them way too long.

“So—” Luke is sitting in the Falcon’s co-pilot seat, as the Falcon pulls into Home One’s hangar as Han talks to him. “You know what you’re gonna say to him?”

They’ve talked it over on the way back, exactly how Luke went wrong the first time. (And oh boy, Han knows that Luke is not a wandering innocent, he’s heard the tales from what the kid got up to on Tatooine, but Luke has no idea how to make a pass at someone. Add to that Wedge’s obliviousness and general blind spot when it comes to the idea that Luke Skywalker might, actually, want to kiss him, and it was a recipe for total disaster.)

“I know.” Luke gives a sage little nod.

Han concentrates on bringing his ship into land – for once, she cooperates perfectly, and they’re through landing procedure before he knows it. Han leaves Chewie to do a run through on the Falcon’s systems – check that none of the gunk Luke brought back ends up contaminating anything – and follows Luke down the ramp.

Luke scans the hangar, as does Han. He’s prepared to cuff Luke by the arm and drag him over to Antilles if he has to. But Luke picks out the correct dark-haired, orange-clad pilot, and sets off in their direction just as Han notices Leia sidling up to him.

“Hey sweetheart,” Han drawls, pleased as ever to see her.

“You think they’ll sort it?” Leia asks, casting a glance over in Wedge and Luke’s direction. Wedge still hasn’t noticed Luke, too concerned with checking something in the innards of his X-Wing.

“Well, Luke and I made a plan.” Luke has to tap Wedge on the shoulder to get his attention, and the man staggers out his X-Wing looking slightly perplexed, but pleased to see Luke. “They’re gonna go somewhere and chat— oh.”

Han is cut off in surprise as Luke grabs Wedge by the shoulders and pushes him back against the X-Wing and kisses him.

Leia arches an eyebrow. “I take it that was _not_ the plan.”

“Well, it was words and then the kissing, I think the kid missed a step.”

Wedge, after his initial surprise, has curled his hands into the back of Luke’s Jedi tunics and is kissing back, so no one can say that it wasn’t _effective_. It goes on for long enough that Han is almost concerned for Wedge’s air supply, but they do part, Luke leaning his forehead against Wedge’s. There are a few whispered words between them, then another kiss. And then, possibly aware that the entire hangar is watching them – and that Wes and Hobbie are not entirely subtly exchanging money – Wedge tugs Luke away, down a corridor, hand in hand.

Leia turns to Han, looking up at her husband. “Well, dear, it seems we might have been successful, even if they didn’t quite follow our advice.”

Only time will tell that, but it’s a start at least. Han reaches out, catching Leia by the waist and pulling her in. “You know Princess, I think they didn’t have the worst idea.” He leans down to kiss Leia, just once, before tugging her off in the same direction – which also happens to lead to Leia’s own suite of rooms, and well, now that Han has fixed his brother-in-law’s problems, he hasn’t seen his wife in two weeks.

And he’ll be damned if he lets Wedge and Luke have all the fun.


End file.
